<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I Think I Remember the Film (and as I Recall, I think We Both Kinda Liked It?) by ifwallscouldspeak</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034478">I Think I Remember the Film (and as I Recall, I think We Both Kinda Liked It?)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwallscouldspeak/pseuds/ifwallscouldspeak'>ifwallscouldspeak</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SKAM (Spain)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5 Times, Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 08:47:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwallscouldspeak/pseuds/ifwallscouldspeak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dilan and Inés are just friends, alright? There's nothing weird about that, there's nothing more going on... and maybe if Inés tells herself that lie enough, she'll start to believe it too (or, a 5+1 fic where Inés manages to take her sweet time understanding her own feelings about Dilan).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Inés Serrano/Dilan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Think I Remember the Film (and as I Recall, I think We Both Kinda Liked It?)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Apparently in an interview, Gonzalo Pendolema mentioned that the cast jokes around about "Dinés" and let me tell you, I did NOT take this as a joke and immediately was hooked on this rarepair. Bless whomever came up with it and bless you, Gonzalo.</p><p>All grammar, spelling and syntax errors mine! I didn't proofread this (...yet) cause I was too excited! Forgive me! </p><p>The title comes from Deep Blue Something's "Breakfast At Tiffany's":<br/><i>You'll say we've got nothing in common<br/>No common ground to start from<br/>And we're falling apart<br/>You say the world has come between us<br/>Our lives have come between us<br/>Still I know you just don't care<br/>And I said, "What about Breakfast at Tiffany's?"<br/>She said, "I think I remember the film<br/>And as I recall, I think we both kinda liked it?"<br/>And I said, "Well, that's the one thing we've got." </i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>+++</p><p>
  <b>Part I - July 2, 2018 </b>
</p><p>
  <span>When soft footsteps sound behind her, Inés stiffens. She refuses to turn around back towards the house, instead crossing her arms over her chest and pouting out at the treeline. From her peripheral vision, she sees someone gingerly stepping around her and right into her line of sight. She sighs then, a mixture of resignation, surprise, and even a small spike of pleasure when she realizes who it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jorge send you out here to see if I’ve calmed down yet?” she asks, voice cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Dilan says, voice mostly mild with a hint of amusement. “Why else would I put myself directly in the line of fire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés tries to fold her lips together so she won’t smile at him, still wanting to simmer in her mood. But she can’t quite manage it. Dilan’s slight snark always manages to make her laugh, even when she thinks she ought to be mad about it. For some reason, he always manages to do that - help her mood deflate without her feeling like he’s dismissing her feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Inés says, incapable of saying much else, lest she either start laughing or crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>These days, it’s always one or the other. With the stress that’s put on her because of her dancing, with everything happening with Jorge - not that she really knew what ‘everything’ even meant - with her parents always on her case... her emotions are like a tornado inside of her. Even Alicia and Eva never seem to really understand how she’s feeling. The only one who ever really seems to come close was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dilan reaches his hand out to her, a bottle of her favorite beer in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just thought if you were going to mope out here, you would probably get thirsty,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes the bottle without saying thank-you, taking a small sip of it. Surprised to taste the sweet tang of orange in it, she peers down into the bottle. The smile threatening on her lips blooms as she looks down at the thin slice floating there. She knows that he must’ve taken the time out to do it, just for this reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice touch,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles at her, one of those wide grins that she always loved to see. His braces glint in the light of the moon and the backyard lanterns. Yet he doesn’t say anything else; he just moves to stand next to her, staring out at the trees, too. A funny sort of feeling twists up her stomach and she looks at his side profile. He’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>different </span>
  </em>
  <span>in these moments, she thinks. No, actually - not different, she corrects herself, because he’s still the same goofy, kind, watchful Dilan as usual. But there’s something… more, maybe. Something patient, she supposes. Something more purposeful. Where he waits for her to start talking and never seems to be judging her for her spikes of anger, her bad attitude, or her cool disdain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t know why we keep fighting,” she finds herself saying. “Sometimes I wonder if…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits a long moment before speaking. “I guess you have to think about if this is something worth holding onto or if it’s something that would be better to let go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels the phantom of annoyance run through her, but the truth behind his words keeps her gut-reaction checked. She studies his side profile; the bridge of his nose, his hair over his ears, the length of his eyelashes. His gaze doesn’t even flicker under the scrutiny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says, “I think you’re worth fighting for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It isn’t until later, when she and Jorge have made up and she’s texting him kiss emojis in bed, that she thinks over Dilan’s words. When he said ‘you,’ he’d meant her relationship with Jorge, right? He hadn’t meant… no, he hadn’t meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not at all.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Part II - November 5, 2018 </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Alicia peers over her shoulder, her long hair spilling across her back and onto </span>
  <span>Inés’s</span>
  <span> shoulder. They’re laying next to each other on </span>
  <span>Inés’s bed, on their stomachs, propped up by their elbows as they scroll through Instagram and Twitter together. Inés’s stomach rumbles, and she hopes dinner is ready soon; she doesn’t really want to snack, but the bag of chips in her backpack is starting to call out to her tantalizing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you laughing about?” Alicia asks, sounding suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This stupid thing Dilan sent me,” Inés says. “It’s nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had sent her a photoshopped image of her own face, mimicking that meme of that woman who looked confused with all the math equations around her head. Normally, she would think someone was mocking her and tell them off; however, she knows with Dilan it’s all jokes. Yesterday, he had sent her an image of his face photoshopped onto that GIF of Homer Simpson walking backwards into the hedge. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me whenever Alec asks me to come to the board to finish an equation, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it had said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can feel Alicia’s curious and slightly judgemental gaze on the side of her face. “Jorge’s Dilan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Duh,” Inés says. “What other Dilan do you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you guys were still friends,” Alicia says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why shouldn’t we be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alicia shrugs. “I just didn’t think it was like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spike of something hot and defensive goes up Inés’s spine and she shifts around her bed. She moves into a sitting position, her legs underneath her and her phone gripped tightly in one hand on her knee. She looks over Alicia, who’s just staring back at her with a slightly arched eyebrow. She can’t really tell if Alicia is being mean or if that’s just her resting bitch face, and that’s what’s making her feel so ornery. Inés frowns, moreso at herself than anything else. Even if Alicia is being bitchy, since when does she get so prickly about it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just Dilan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like anything,” Inés insists. “He sends me stupid jokes, sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s my point,” Alicia says. “Why? You don’t talk to Hugo anymore, and you barely hang out with Lucas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dilan isn’t Hugo or Lucas,” Inés finds herself snapping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alicia just stares back at her, not really looking surprised or annoyed by Inés’s tone. To be honest, Inés feels like that would’ve been even worse than if this whole thing really escalated into a fight. After a moment, Alicia just nods and then goes back to looking at her phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dilan is nice,” Alicia says in an offhand way after a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always thought he was funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He watches you a lot,” Alicia says. “Not like, you. But in general. He pays attention to things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he’s cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Inés can say anything - before she can properly even comprehend the surprise flare of jealousy she feels at hearing Alicia say that so casually - her father is calling them down for dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank God, I’m starving,” Alicia says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés is thankful that Dilan doesn’t come up as a topic after that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Part III - April 29, 2019  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés gently places the helmet on the low wall beside her before fluffing her hair up. She catches Alejandro smiling at her through the corner of her eye before he disappears into the restaurant, going to see if they can be seated early or if they have to wait the twenty minutes before their reservation. Peeking through the window, Inés can see that it’s pretty crowded around the bar and the maitre d’s post, so she knows that they’ll probably have to wait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inés!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns at the sound of a small, high voice calling out to her cheerfully. Something in her stomach flops over and twists as she notices Dilan first. He’s walking towards her slowly, one of his hands gripping a reusable shopping bag with carrots poking out of the top. He’s looking in her direction for sure, but she has the sinking feeling that he’s not actually looking at </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. For some reason, it feels personal, and that actually fucking hurts. She has to take a sharp inhale before she even notices the small voice calling her name again, which snaps her back to attention. She spots Dilan’s kid sister, Pilar, skipping towards her, an ice cream cone in her hand. It’s dripping down her wrist already, the white liquid in contrast to her brown skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi hun!” Inés says warmly, fully meaning it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ever since she and Dilan started studying together at the beginning of the year, Inés has been to Dilan’s house quite a few times. He had to simultaneously babysit Pilar, so half the time he was helping both her and Inés with their math homework. Inés, to her credit, was much better at history than Dilan was and had helped Pilar make flashcards many nights to help her with upcoming tests. Despite herself, Inés thought of one of their study sessions about a month ago. Pilar had fallen asleep on the couch while Inés and Dilan had been splayed out on the ugly shag carpet. Their knees had been touching, and everytime Dilan leaned over to check one of Inés’s answers, she couldn’t help but take a deep inhale just to faintly woodsy smell that reminded her of laughing with him in the summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés watches Dilan come up to her now, delicately grazing her knee with her fingertips. She watches him, sure that his eyes are tracking the movement. She finds herself growing hot, trying to focus instead on Pilar’s excited stream of chatter. Something about going to the park with her best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After we get the groceries home to Mama,” Dilan says. “Also, finish eating your ice cream before it melts all over you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s so cold on my teeth!” Pilar complains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah,” Inés says. “That’s the worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, Dilan?” Pilar gestures towards Inés, making droplets of melted ice cream go flying. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dilan makes the face that he always makes when he’s trying not to laugh, and Inés is reminded of how much she loves that face. She’s also reminded of how much she hasn’t seen it lately; how much she hasn’t seen much of his laugh at all. Even when they're studying, he seems to be a bit more distant, and she hasn’t gotten a meme from him in weeks. She had sent him one the other day - that </span>
  <em>
    <span>aw shit, here we go again </span>
  </em>
  <span>one when she saw their favorite show was coming back from hiatus - but he had just given her a thumb’s up reaction and not much else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look so pretty, Inés,” Pilar says shyly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés smiles. “Thank you. I’m -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, she suddenly feels uncomfortable mentioning Alejandro. She glances over her shoulder, looking at him through the glass of the restaurant. He’s talking to the maitre d now, and she knows it’s only a few more moments until he comes back out. She shifts, physically discomforted at the idea of Alejandro coming back out and putting his hand on the small of her back or kissing her cheek in front of Dilan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait, what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Pilar,” Dilan says, before flashing Inés a kind smile. “We don’t want to bother Inés on her date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re on a date?” Pilar squeals, like it’s the most exciting thing to ever happen to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...” the words still won’t come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile slowly slides off of Dilan’s face, and something moves in his dark, brown eyes. It’s like he wants to say something to her but isn’t sure about how it’ll be received. Inés finds herself holding her breath, leaning forward slightly, as if to encourage whatever will come out of his mouth. Her heart starts racing, and she wonders exactly what this is, and why she feels more adrenaline now than she has in weeks. Especially because - well, she’s happy with Alejandro, right? They know each other. They have fun together. Just not… the same kind of fun that she has with Dilan, and not the same kind of knowing she always sees in Dilan’s eyes. She watches as those eyes bore into hers and then shift away for a split-second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see you later, Inés,” is what ends up coming out of his mouth. “Come on, Pilar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pilar chirps a cheerful goodbye and turns to follow her brother, him gently reaching out to hold her free hand as they go to cross the street. Inés breathes out her disappointment, wondering what the hell is wrong with her. A moment later, she feels Alejandro’s secure hand on the small of her back. Even though the smile she gives him feels genuine, she still can’t help but feel like something is missing - and that whatever it is, it just walked across the way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Part IV - October 2, 2019 </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, </span>
  <em>
    <span>gordito</span>
  </em>
  <span>, give me some,” </span>
  <span>Inés teases, reaching across Dilan to try and grab at the bag of candies in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, stretching his arm out as far as it can go, the bag barely in the grasp of his fingertips as he plays keep-away. Inés is at the brink of pushing herself into his lap to get the bag, not even really caring about the candy itself. It’s about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>principle</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it all, she tells herself, and certainly nothing to do with how warm he is and how she wants to sink into the smell of his body wash. They’re sitting in the bleachers near the basketball court, and she notices the way his other arm wraps around her, helping her to keep her balance even as she tries to steal the candy from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes them both a moment to notice Lucas staring at them from the bottom of the bleachers, one knowing eyebrow raised. Inés chuckles awkwardly, going for one last half-hearted grab for the candy bag, before depositing herself back in her own seat. She resists the urge to glance down and check to see how much space is between her thigh and Dilan’s, wondering if it’s enough room from an outsider's view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re changing teams, Dilan,” Lucas says slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, cool,” Dilan grins, and neatly deposits the candy into Inés’s lap. “Enjoy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>princesa</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés digs into the bag swiftly, chucking one at the back of Dilan’s head with a laugh. He grins at her over his shoulder, bouncing down the bleachers and onto the court. Inés beams at him, then slowly tries to contain her smile as Lucas tentatively walks up the bleachers and sits down next to her. She can feel the questioning look on his face, causing something to ache in her ribcage. She tries to play off her sudden uncertainty, flipping her hair over one shoulder and smiling at Lucas. It feels more like she’s baring her teeth than anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready to go, </span>
  <em>
    <span>princesa</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Lucas asks her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like that,” the words slip pass Inés’s lips before she can think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches as his eyes slide past her towards the court, ostensibly to look at Dilan. She berates herself, but forces her body to remain stiff as she looks at Lucas. She absolutely will not turn to watch Dilan, though she can hear his loud, unadulterated laughter. It means nothing that she can recognize his laugh, really. Lucas finally meets her gaze again, his eyes too kind for her liking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say it was like anything,” he says. “Are you ready to go? I was thinking we could get sushi at this cute spot near -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still friends with you,” she says defensively, apparently unable to control her big mouth at the moment. “Why is me being friends with Dilan any different?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucas raises his eyebrows. “It’s not different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless… is it different?” He asks, voice soft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés says loudly, “Actually, yes, I am ready to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay if it’s different,” Lucas says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gentle tone of his voice just makes her anger flare up, and she whips her head to stare at him menacingly. She wants to tell him that no, it’s not okay. That she likes hanging out with Dilan, but that it’s just nothing more - no, in fact, it can’t be anything more. Because she’s tired of always coming second to guys, tired of being jerked around by the nice ones who always seem to just be biding their time until they get to be with the ones they really want. It was like that with Jorge who made her laugh and Alejandro who smiled at her sweetly. What would make Dilan any different?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not, she reminds herself, that she wants Dilan to be different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inadvertently, she looks towards Dilan. He’s cheering, running right into Hugo’s arms. Hugo lifts him up and they scream delightedly together, reveling in whatever just happened - someone scoring, Inés is sure. She looks down and away, not quite meeting Lucas’s eyes either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Inés,” he tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Inés says, clearing her throat. “Sure. Come on, let’s go.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Part V - March 1, 2020 </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, what else,” Eva says around a mouthful of pizza. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, there’s so much to catch up on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” I know,” </span>
  <span>Inés groans, rolling her neck. “I feel like all I do is study and practice now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you got big things coming up,” Eva grins at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, at the expense of my social life,” Inés jokes, peeling a mushroom off the pizza and popping it into her mouth. “But speaking of social life, what’s up with you and Cristian? Didn’t you guys have like, a thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eva waves her hand like she’s waving away smoke. “That was last year, girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well excuuuuuse me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But! Oh, that kinda reminds me, did you know Viri and Hugo are dating now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés scoffs. “You’re kidding me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no,” Eva insists. “It was this big thing, I don’t know, then out of nowhere - boom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they have nothing in common,” Inés frowns. “Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eva shrugs. “Opposites attract?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it was kinda crazy though because Dilan had asked her out, and she said yes, but then I don’t think they went because she was crushing on Hugo the whole time, and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés’s voice comes out sharper than she intends, but she can’t help it. Eva pauses, her pizza slice halfway to her mouth as she looks at Inés with wide eyes. Inés gives a delicate cough, wiping her mouth with her napkin to spare herself some extra time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she manages to come up with. “Food went down the wrong pipe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that caused you to snap at me?” Eva’s eyebrows go up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Inés insists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as she says it, she wracks her brain, trying to think about if Dilan ever mentioned Viri to her. It… might’ve been weird if he had, she reasons; they’re friends but it’s not like they’ve ever really… you know. Talked about their love lives. But Dilan was also one of the only people she had made time to see the past few months, and she never got the indication that he was into Viri. Why wouldn’t he have said anything? Was there something she missed? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns, mostly to herself, not seeing the way Eva’s eyes widen at the movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inés?” Eva asks, a bewildered tone in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés doesn’t answer her, her frown deepening as she tries to think about Dilan’s mood the last few weeks. There was that one time, at her house, watching the game with her dad? When he kept jiggling his knee like he was nervous, to the point where she had to lean on it with her elbow to get him to both stop moving and start laughing. Or there was that other time, when they were at the coffee shop by his house, and he seemed really distracted. She had even gotten an equation wrong on purpose and he had missed her mistake. Or what about when they were just hanging out at the movies, and he was so out of it he could only say, “huh?” whenever she poked him in the ribs for not commenting on how ridiculous the movie was? Or just the other day, when she exaggeratedly stuck her foot out in the hallway, and he actually tripped over it? She was so busy laughing already that she hadn’t noticed he was completely distracted by something - someone - down the hall. She had hurriedly ropped her books to pull him up, but he had just told her it was okay instead of roasting her for playing a prank on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that all because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Viri</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of not being his type,” Inés mutters, glaring at her beer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés can hear the defensive tone to Eva’s voice; that, more than any coherent thought in her head, is what keeps her talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no,” Inés says. “Not like that. Viri is sweet, she’s pretty. But she’s not Dilan’s type. He - he likes bold girls, girls who he can go from tossing a ball around with to hanging out on the couch and gorging on chips. Girls who drag him to buy make-up with them but then buy dinner afterwards. Girls…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her throat starts closing up as she realizes she’s describing girls like her, and all the times she and Dilan have hung out. All the times that the line blurred between being really good friends and her being able to close her eyes and feel that they were something more. The feelings come rushing up, and unlike all the other times, she isn’t able to push them back down. She feels herself breathing hard, her cheeks growing hot and splotchy. Eva’s eyes are impossibly wide as she shoves her water glass towards Inés. She grabs it and chugs it, droplets spilling down her chin and onto her shirt. She takes a few calming breaths, and just sits there for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like Dilan,” she finally admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eva takes a moment. “I wish I could say I’m as surprised as you seem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés squeezes her eyes shut. “Ugh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not super obvious,” Eva says quickly, already backtracking in that kind way she always does. “But, it’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You notice everything?” Inés asks, opening her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Eva says. “You know, it’s just… well even when you were with Jorge, you two would always be laughing in the corner together, or when… ahem… you and Jorge fought, it always seemed like you only wanted to talk to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was years ago,” Inés says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, but you guys… stayed close. We all noticed it -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Eva says hurriedly. “I mean, you know, I might have… uh… heard something… from Lucas...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye!” Inés glares. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bochinchero</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s not bad,” Eva says, more softly this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words slip out softly, and this time she doesn’t wish she could take them back. Eva gives her a gentle, knowing look, and reaches out across the table. She grips Inés’s hand in hers, squeezing it softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Eva says, “It’s not bad at all,” for once, Inés just chooses to believe her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>+I - September 4, 2020 </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why haven’t you asked me out yet?” </span>
  <span>Inés demands, dropping her textbooks on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s practically shaking, ignoring all of the bewildered looks of her fellow university students around her. Dilan looks up at her, a pencil half-hanging out of his mouth. She stares at him expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest. Her phone is in one hand and their text messages, where he had just sent her a </span>
  <em>
    <span>red</span>
  </em>
  <span> heart, is still open. Belatedly, she notices that her favorite danish and a cup of coffee are already on the table, hot and waiting for her. A curl of pleasure rises and bursts through her, but she keeps her face stern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dilan seems somewhat uncertain, but just as he’s always done for her, she waits him out. She’s waited this long, anyway; a few more minutes isn’t going to kill her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he says slowly, “Why haven’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>asked </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> out yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inés’s jaw drops and she sputters, “excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I want to be wined and dined,” Dilan says, his face completely straight even though she can read the half joke in his eyes. “Why should it be all on me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because!” Inés starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles up at her then, and she somehow can’t manage to finish her sentence. She can’t really manage to do anything at all except smile dopily back at him. Her knees start to feel weak so she drops into her waiting seat, peeking at him through the curtain of her hair. She feels like all of her nerve endings are sparking up, and he hasn’t even touched her. Just keeps looking at her with that wide, knowing grin that gets her every damn time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tonto</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m free Friday night,” Dilan says in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you’re not,” she says automatically. “We have plans to go to that new club with Jorge and Eva.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” he says, pure amusement in his voice. “How could I forget?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is so wry that she wants to wipe the smirk off of his face. The only thing that she can think to do is rise up out of her seat. The tips of her hair drag across the table and she can hear people whispering around them. But Inés just keeps her eyes on Dilan’s dark ones, watching him tracking her movements and she moves closer. She stops just a few inches away from his face, waiting for him to do - say - anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t disappoint; slowly, he reaches up, cupping her face in his hands. She takes a sharp inhale, and then moves forward, finally closing the space between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It isn’t until later, when she and Dilan are walking hand in hand down the street, that she suddenly drops his hand, smacking him with the back of hers. When he exaggeratedly grips his ribs and asks what that’s for, she calls him out for </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> not asking her out. And no, she stresses, that cute smile on his face is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the same thing! Not at all.) </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>